Nothing Gold Can Stay
by zouss
Summary: This is basically a modern GWTW. I've had this idea for some time, and I'm finally starting to write it out.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, this is basically Gone With The Wind set in the present. The awesome character like Mammy, Ashley, Melly, and, of course, the unforgettable Aunt Pitty, will all make appearance, just later on. Since it's kind of hard to write a GWTW fic without Rhett, he'll be joining us next chapter.

Though I wish I owned GWTW, sadly I have to admit I don't (I bet you're all shocked, huh?).

_God. I should _not_ have drunk that much last night, _was the thought that kept running through Scarlett O'Hara's mind on the morning of November 20th, 2006, during second period of Lincoln High School, Atlanta. She was currently slouching in the back of Mrs. McDermott's eleventh grade English class, musing on the evils of drinking while the old hag droned on about something or another. Scarlett had planned to sit in a dark corner of the classroom to nurse her hangover, but some jocks even sicker than her had beaten her to it and she didn't have the strength to flirt them out of their seats. The truth was, she was absolutely unused to hangovers. The first time she had gotten drunk, in tenth grade, her mother had caught her and given her a lecture such as only Ellen O'Hara could, with a gentleness that made Scarlett more ashamed of herself than any yelling could have done, and she had vowed to herself never to drink again, a vow that had been quickly broken (though, she justified to herself, she had never gotten drunk again, which was the truth). Until last night, that is. Something she regretted immensely as she sat, doing her best to be invisible.

_What the devil is she talking about?_ Scarlett wondered, bewildered. She had absolutely no idea, and honestly, she didn't really care to find out, since it seemed as dull as a doorknob. _But then,_ she mused _Mrs. M can make even math sound boring._ Something that was quite a feat in Scarlett's eyes, seeing as she thought Math was the best subject ever…

"Scarlett!" the teacher's voice snapped. She winced. Why the hell did Mrs. M need to speak that loud?

"Yes, Miss?" she said meekly, causing a few sniggers. Everyone knew about the long-lasting feud between Scarlett and the English teacher, which had started two years ago and showed no sign of letting up.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying?"

"Of course I am, Miss," she replied, widening her striking green eyes innocently. Mrs. McDermott was not fooled.

"Then would you like to tell me about why Wang Lung tried so hard to get more land during the famine?"

Scarlett looked at her blankly. Who the _heck_ was Wang Lung? And what earth did he want anyway?

"Because he thought land was pretty?" she guessed. Roars of laughter erupted. _Guess not,_ Scarlett sighed inwardly, bracing for whatever essays Mrs. M would assign her.

"Very funny, Miss O'Hara. Since you seem to find earth so beautiful, you get a ten-page essay on the most beautiful landscape you ever saw. I expect it on my desk before the first bell tomorrow. You're dismissed," she added as the bell rang, covering Scarlett's swear. She was immediately approached by a gaggle of boys, all sympathizing with her and exchanging McDermott horror stories, not realizing that it didn't do much to improve her headache, which had gotten worse as she heard about that last assignment. There was already so much homework that was due tomorrow. _Let's see,_ thought Scarlett ironically, _there's that that chem. Project, 2 hours worth of AP Calculus, that paper on WWll, oh and let's not forget about that five-page story in French._ And God knew what else those jerks in today's classes would come up with. _And, _she remembered with a sinking heart,_ I have horseback riding tonight. _How the hell was she expected to do all that tonight? The Tarleton twins chose that moment to announce their presence.

"Scarlett!" they shouted in a booming voice.

"Stu, Brent! What's up?!" she replied in a falsely cheery voice.

"You're up, that's what!" they answered, laughing as though they'd said the funniest thing ever. Scarlett, too, laughed obligingly, though personally she thought they were acting like immature ten years olds. Dropping her bag by her locker, she did the combo while they caught up with her. Leaning on each sides of her they grinned.

"Guess what," They said in unison. She took out her French book.

"You just did this amazing prank," she replied, leaning over to pick up the markers that had fallen out of her locker.

"Yes, but what else?" Stu asked, grinning.

"We got caught!" Brent shouted gleefully, not waiting for her answer.

"And what do you thinks our punishment?" they asked cheerfully.

"Tell me," she said, slamming the door shut and starting to walk. They followed, matching their strides to hers.

"Suspension. But Dr Zeytoon says if we do anything else we'll be expelled," the twins said this happily, obviously not bothered at all by the threat. _Which doesn't surprise me,_ Scarlett thought, _considering that would be their, like, 5th expulsion since they got in High School._

"You're mom's gonna be delighted," she commented dryly, leaning by the door outside M. Guillouet's classroom.

"She ain't gonna hear about it," Stu said confidently.

"That's right," Brent said self-assuredly, "we're planning on chilling at Kennedy's for the next three days." Frank Kennedy was a college student who allowed all high-schoolers to hang at his house if they were in trouble, wanted a party, or simply felt like it.

"And give up pranks forever?" Scarlett asked, ignoring the first bell's shrill ring, "this is only November, if you get caught again you'll get expelled, and I doubt you can spend every day until the end of the year at Frank's. Besides, what about college? Next year you gotta go, and it'll be hard to get recommendation letters when you don't have any teachers."

"All valid points," Stu admitted.

"Which is why we'll make sure we're not caught," Brent finished triumphantly. Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she was about to object when the final bell rang. Giving both boys a light kiss, she watched them saunter off to get their stuff ready to leave before she turned around to go to class, not worried in the least about getting a tardy since everyone knew that the French teacher had a perpetual hangover and didn't bother to mark any latenesses or absences he did notice (which weren't many). Sliding into a seat besides Cathleen Calvert, she realized with mild surprise she felt much better. Glancing at Cathleen, or Cath, as everyone called her, she raised an eyebrow. Though Cath was one of her few female friends at Lincoln, Scarlett would be the first to admit she was an idiot and a slut. Today would only reinforced her opinion. With an _absurd_ amount of makeup on, supremely high heels, a shirt that could be better described as a bikini top, and a skirt that left very little to the imagination, it was hard to believe she realized it was winter. _But then,_ Scarlett thought dryly, _Cath was not exactly known for her powers of observation._

"Guess what," Cath hissed, leaning over. Backing away, Scarlett hid her repugnance as she wiped the spit of her ear.

"Tell me," she whispered back, pushing the frosted cupcake from her desk where some freshman must've left it. _Dork,_ she said mentally with self-satisfied contempt.

"Cade's visiting tomorrow. Dad's away, the Yankee's gotten rid of, and he's bringing some college friends." The Yankee was Cath's name for her stepmother, a woman from the north that she absolutely hated. "We're gonna party all night," she leaned back with a smirk and popped some gum into her mouth." Scarlett smiled back, a Cheshire smile full of satisfaction, arrogance, and pleasure, which seemed to accentuate her cat-like features. A party! Scarlett loved parties. At her mother's insistence, she had taken dancing classes when she was younger, though she realized it was a waste as soon as she went to her first party, where dancing was not so much dancing as contortioning into weird positions while music played in the background.

"What time?"

"Seven to God knows when," was the reply. Scarlett grinned. That sounded like fun. And Cade would be there! Cade was a hot, smart guy, who was head-over-heels in love with Scarlett (though that wasn't very unusual, considering she could make anyone fall for her with a look). And college boys too! This would be interesting; Cade went to Harvard, she imagined that all of his friends would be smart, and it would be fun to see how many she could make fall in love with her in one evening. Scarlett loved challenges, and she was sure these would be harder than the local boys, like Kennedy, an absolute nerd who actually seemed interested in her sister Suellen.

"I'll be there."

When she got home after horseback riding, Scarlett immediately holed herself up in her room and told the maid to bring her a pack of Redbulls, her lifesaving energy drink that she used whenever she had tons of homework. Turning away from the TV resolutely and signing off MSN, she opened her history book and started.

Four hours later she was done. Closing her Calculus book, which she always saved for last because it was the only thing she actually enjoyed, she grabbed the two leftover Redbulls and brought them to the kitchen, where her sister Careen was studying with the help of chocolate cake, which she always referred to as her "homework food."

"Baby Sis! S'up?" she shouted, cheerfully slamming the refrigerator door.

"I got a history exam tomorrow," she said with a sweet smile.

"Manana? Lo siento, amiga," Scarlett answered, banging down a glass.

"I'm sorry?" Careen asked, looking at her with blank blue eyes.

"Never mind," she replied. Unlike Suellen, Careen was a sweet girl whom she did not like to tease much. For a moment, both sisters sat silent, one studying while the other sat and sipped a glass of milk in a vain attempt to was away the bitter taste that to many caffeines left in one's mouth. At last Careen spoke:

"Are you going to the party tomorrow?"

"'Course I am," she answered, "why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you're always complaining about homework. I thought you would want to stay home." Scarlett looked at her sharply, searching her face for any signs that her comment had been sly in any way. Reassured, she berated herself. This was _Careen._ Sweet, innocent Baby Sister, who had never been nasty to anyone in her life, and probably didn't even know what nasty meant, unlike Suellen.

"I'm home!" a shrill voice shouted, accompanied by the banging of a door and hurried footsteps. Scarlett sighed. _Speak of the devil._

"Scarlett…" a honeyed voice said. She looked up warily. Suellen was being nice to her. That could only mean one thing: her sister wanted something.

"No," she spoke curtly.

"No what?" Suellen asked with the fake innocence that always rankled Scarlett.

"You know what. You want something from me, and I have no intention of giving it to you," her voice was cool, with a slightly mocking undertone. Careen looked on with wide eyes. She knew her sisters loved each other, of course, but sometimes she thought differently when she heard them squabbling.

"Want something for you?! Of course not! Can't I be nice to my eldest sister without everyone being suspicion of my motives?" Again with that false innocence, Scarlett noticed, irritated.

"Tell me what you want. I'm feeling generous, who knows, I might even give it to you!" This was a lie, of course. When it came to Suellen, she never felt generous; but she didn't want to have her sister hovering around all afternoon, brown-nosing her to get what she wanted. Scarlett hated when people acted sweet to get what she wanted. She did all the, of course, but that didn't mean she had to tolerate it form others. Scarlett O'Hara, it can safely be said, was not a great believer in "Do unto thy neighbor what you would have done unto thyself." **(A/N: or something like that. Sorry, I'm not very religious.) **Suellen hesitated. Perhaps she should ask now. Something might happen later that would put Scarlett in a bad mood, and if she'd promised she wouldn't take it back. No matter how much Sue disliked her sister, she knew she never went back on her word.

"You've heard of Cade's party tomorrow, of course. Well, Frank'll be there, and I want to look nice for him. I wondered if you'd be so generous as to lend me that green top of yours, you know, the one that matches my eyes," she asked a pleading look in said eyes. Scarlett raised her eyebrows. Suellen always insisted her eyes were as green as her sister's, which was an absolute lie. Scarlett's eyes were pure green, often looking like emeralds, while Suellen's eyes were hazel with the barest hint of green. The sweater in question was a dark green that hugged Scarlett's curves perfectly, and she had been planning to wear it tomorrow.

"Sorry, nope. I'm wearing it," she enjoyed the outraged look on her sister's face.

"But you said you were going to-" she shouted her face turning red.

"I said no such thing," Scarlett intervened, annoyed, "I said I was feeling generous, that's all."

"YOU'RE THE MOST SELFISH, NASTY, SELF-CENTERED-"

"What seems to be the problem, girls?" said a calm voice. There was a deathly silence in the kitchen as the girls looked at their mother, who had just come home from the fields. Careen, book in hand, was sitting at the kitchen table. Suellen, fists balled and face red, was standing on the middle of the floor facing Scarlett, who was leaning against the counter, scowling with her eyebrows slanting dangerously, the first warning signs that she was soon going to lose her temper. Yet at the sight of her mother, her face relaxed, to be the relaxed, calm expression she always wore around her Ellen. In Scarlett's opinion, Mrs. O'Hara was too good and pure to be taken in the confidence of her squabbles with Suellen.

"Scarlett's being hateful, as usual!" Sadly, her opinion was not shared.

"I was going to wear that sweater anyway!" she retorted. Ellen sighed. She had a pretty good idea what the problem was.

"Girls, girls," she started, "first of all, where and when is the party?" For a moment there was a silence as the three girls admired their mother's ability to divine their problems, then Careen answered.

"Tomorrow, at the Calvert's," her sweet voice made the tension in the room ease.

"Thank you, honey," Ellen said, giving her youngest daughter a soft smile, "now, what is it that you won't lend your sister, Scarlett?"

"My green sweater that I was planning to wear anyway," she answered defensively.

"It matches my eyes! And it would look better on me anyway!" Suellen cried. "It's not fair! Scarlett gets all the nice clothes!" and with a decisive stamp of her foot, she pouted pleadingly at her mother.

"Now, sweetheart, your sister was planning on wearing it herself. And you know you just have to ask and I'll get you whatever you want. If you want, we can go to town this weekend and get you some clothes." At these last words, Suellen's face brightened considerably, and she dragged her mother to her room to help her decide what she should wear at the party tomorrow. Looking relieved that the conflict had ended, Careen went back to studying for her test the next day, leaving Scarlett to silently admire the way Ellen could solve everything with a few words.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own Gone With The Wind.**

**I'd like to thank all my reviewers: greensaphire, Delilah Twain, Jacina night feather, Joyanne, and Gally619.**

The next day, the whole school was talking about the party. The girls, especially, were excited. The idea of a bunch of Harvard students was particularly interesting. They'd seen Ivy-Leaguers before, of course, but at parents' parties, dressed in tuxedoes and discussing the impact of the Aztecs on the modern-day world or something. That night, they would be wearing casual clothes, drinking, playing beer pong, and (the female population of Lincoln High hoped) hooking up. Everyone would be there, so it was lucky the Calvert's lived in a huge mansion in the countryside, where the neighbors were unlikely to report that there was a bunch of drunk teenagers getting high in the respectable backyard of the respectable Mr. Calvert.

The boys also were excited, and Scarlett noted with flattered amusement that they were paying special attention to her, all secretly hoping that she would agree to dance with them, yet knowing the odds were low. The afore-mentioned Lady herself was currently in French class, eyeing Mr. Guillouet warily as he shouted something that she couldn't understand, spit flying from his mouth. Mr. Guillouet, or the Drunk, as everyone referred to him, was going through one of his "bad phases." A "bad phase" was basically when his wife tired of his getting drunk every night and confiscated all his liquor, after which he went through this weird withdrawal where he would be as nasty as possible to everyone, including said wife, who would then become so tired of him she would leave. This meant that for a couple of days everyone got bad grades, the more sensitive girls were reduced to tears, and his colleagues stayed out of the teacher's lounge for fear of crossing him there. Yet no one really minded, because they knew that soon he would be so miserable he'd start drinking again, would apologize to his wife, she would come back, and Mr. Guillouet would once again become the happy, hungover man they knew and loved. At the moment, however, he was attacking a boy who had done the crime of slouching.

"_Mr. Cesar. Tenez-vous droit!" _he howled as the poor boy cowered, _"cecis n'est pas un zoo, Mr. Cesar, c'est une classe de Francais, la belle langue que vous petit cons croyaient que vous pouvaient vraiment apprendre! Vous etent des idiots! Des idiots, je vous dis!"_ Scarlett looked at him curiously, wondering what he was saying. _"Des petits cons. Vous etent des bons-a- rien! Rien que des bons-a-rien, je vous dis. Tous les Americains son des bon-a–rien, en faite. Les Francais, voila une bonne race. Les Francais sont beaus, inteligents, et gentils-"_

"Psssst!" a voice hissed. Scarlett turned around in shock. Someone was actually stupid enough to talk without permission when the Drunk was in this mood? _I should've guessed,_ she thought when she saw it was Cath. She gave the girl a look that said quite clearly "not now," before turning around again. Though not clearly enough, apparently, because a second later she felt a note hit her back. Dropping her pen purposefully, she grabbed the piece of paper as she leaned down to retrieve it. **_Wat u werin tonite? _**Scarlett read, not even bothering to raise her eyebrows at the handwriting. Turning it around, she quickly scrawled **_My green top and some dark blue jeans. U? _** Quickly glancing at the teacher, who was now howling at some girl foolish enough to breathe too loudly (said girl had asthma). Taking advantage of this opportunity, she quickly tossed it to Cath before bending over her French notebook with a look of total concentration on her face. A minute later, she felt the note again. This time she chose to pick it up with her feet, and again she glanced at the teacher before trying to read it. Mr. Guillouet was now prowling around looking for a new victim while the asthmatic girl sobbed in the background. _No way,_ she thought in alarm, and stuffed the slip in her pocket.

"Guess what!" Cath whispered at the end of class as they both scurried away from the teacher, fearful of catching one of the many detentions he was handing out. Scarlett rolled her eyes. Why did everyone in this damned school greet each other with "Guess What?" It was really annoying.

"Tell me," she answered the usual reply, dodging a pair of sophomores that had been trying to feel her up.

"Well, Frank's bringing a guest to the party," she said cheerfully.

"And how exactly do you know that earth-shattering bit of news?" Scarlett asked, albeit a bit sarcastically.

"He asked me if he could take him," was the answer, and Scarlett rolled her eyes, exasperated. That was just like Frank, to ask about something like that. He didn't understand that, when it came to high school parties, the motto was "the more, the merrier!" It was typical, really. Scarlett sighed, reproaching herself. Why did she always have to be severe on Frank? He was a good guy, very nice and polite; the problem was his lack of confidence. It always bugged her, the way he stuttered, rarely spoke unless spoken to, always asked if he was doing the right thing. Dear Lord, the man was twenty! One would think he could take care of himself.

"Who's he bringin'?" she asked Cath, who was currently batting her eyelashes at a pair of seniors.

"Some guy called Rhett Butler," her friend answered. "Apparently he's real hot," she was obviously pleased by this.

"And how do you happen to know that?"

"I asked Kennedy!" Cath replied, obviously thinking this was a very normal procedure. Scarlett gaped at her.

"You're kidding!"

"Not very funny if I am."

"You seriously asked a guy if another guy was hot?!" she knew the answer even as she spoke.

"Of course! Why not?" It was obvious Cath was bemused by Scarlett's shock.

"Because…Because…," Scarlett spluttered, suddenly not sure of the answer herself. "Because it isn't done, that's why," she finally answered.

"So what?" Cath replied, "don't you always say rules are made to be broken?"

Rhett Butler lounged in his chair, bored. He wished he hadn't come to visit Frank Kennedy. He had known his mother, and had respected her a great deal. Hearing that her son lived in Atlanta, he had visited him while in town for some business; something he now regretted. Frank Kennedy had none of that courage and strength Rhett had admired so much in his mother; in fact he seemed a bit like a loser, as was demonstrated by the fact he would be going to a high school party in several minutes. _And dragging me along too_, Rhett thought gloomily. This was what annoyed him the most. He had not come to Atlanta to spend the evening watching rich teenagers get drunk, which was what was going to happen that night for sure. _Oh well_, he thought with a sigh, _if you don't like it, lump it._

Nine o'clock found a very cheerful Scarlett sitting in a chair, with a glass of brandy in one hand, surrounded by a crowd of adoring Harvard Boys. She had been skeptical at first; especially put off by the boy's "I'm from Harvard. Worship me," attitude. But after a good hour of flirting with them, they started to act in "Scarlett's perfect. Worship her," way that was much more pleasing to her, and she found herself being plied with alcohol while the students surrounded her with identical expressions of love on their faces. She was enjoying herself immensely. Everyone of Lincoln High was here, as well as a lot of guys from Georgia State who would probably be kissing her feet too if the Harvaders had let them; as it was, they were stuck far away, looking at her with a wistful expression that delighted Scarlett. At that moment, a boy jostled her, startling her out of her daydream. Someone, Scarlett believed he was called Charles, immediately started to apologize profusely. Dimpling at him, she said "Oh, no worries. It was an accident. You're Charles, right?" Obviously delighted at being remembered by her, he nodded vigorously. "Well," she said flashing her dimples at him again "you're certainly at handsome boys, aren't you?" He was, actually, but it would've been nice if he didn't look so much like a calf. "Will you do me the another of getting me some chips?" At this, Charles looked so overcome Scarlett worried slightly he would faint. However, he pulled himself together and after stuttering a reply, he rushed off. At this, another boy (_Tony, was it?_ Scarlett wondered briefly) gave her an annoyed look.

"I could've gotten them myself you know."

"I know," she replied soothingly, "but then who would've kept me company?" at which he suddenly looked delighted. Another boy tapped her shoulder, and she turned around, dimple ready, only to find herself facing Frank Kennedy, a disgruntled Suellen, and someone she had never seen before. He was a tall man, looked older than all the boys there, and had dark skin and jet black hair. He was dressed with such impeccable taste one would almost think he was gay, if it weren't for his eyes. Scarlett had never seen eyes that dark, and she felt her breath catch as they met his. They were mocking, insolent, and, worst of all, seemed to know she cared nothing about all the boys surrounding her. Scarlett disliked him at once, especially annoyed by his "devil-may-care" appearance. For a moment their gaze locked, before Scarlett was recalled by Sue's voice, saying: "Scarlett, this is Rhett Butler. Frank wanted me to introduce him to you, although I don't know why it should matter to you, since you only care about yourself!" This was said spitefully, and Scarlett opened her mouth, with a bitter retort on the tip of her tongue, but Frank spoke before her.

"Now, now, Suellen. Surely there's no need to-" Scarlett looked at her sister, a plan forming in her mind.

"Oh Frank, don't bother. Suellen's a nasty thing, and you shouldn't bother trying to sweeten her, though it _is_ very gentleman-like," at which she batted her eyes flirtatiously. Kennedy blushed, obviously unsure of himself; Suellen looked at her sister with indignant outrage; and the Butler man raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on his face.

"Well, you know-" Frank said, before trailing off with another blush.

"Since you seem to be so gallant tonight,will you do me the honor of getting me a glass of Coke?" again she dimpled at him, quite sure of his answere.

"It would be a pleasure, Scarlett," he stuttered, obviously not believing his good fortune. He dashed off, followed by Suellen after she gave her sister a murderous look, to wish Scarlett responded with a malicious smile. She had no doubt that Sue had gone to stop Frank from his errand, but she found she didn't care. The look on her sister's face was priceless. Sheturned around and discovered she was then left alone (well, as alone as you can be with a mob of fans around you) with Rhett Butler.

"Such kindness to your sister's boyfriend. Why, I don't think I've ever seen anyone who tried so hard to please someone out of devotion to their sibling!" he said. Scarlett narrowed her eyes. From anyone else, this would have seemed like a compliment, but their was something in his sarcastic voice, sardonic smile, and ironic black eyes, that made her quite sure he was mocking her. But she decided to act as though she hadn't noticed. _After all, _she reasoned, _you catch more flies with honey than vinegar._

"Thank you. My sister and I have always been very…close," she replied, though it was obvious from the look in Rhett's eyes he didn't believe her.

"Such familial devotion is very touching, especially in these times, where sisters are involved in continual spats that only end when they reach twenty," he bowed as he said this, "it's very…_lady-like…_ of both of you." Scarlett reddened suddenly, and her brows lowered dangerously. She opened her mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She gazed angrily at Charles, who had come back and was holding out a plateful of chips to her, obviously intimated. She dealt with him, and turned back to Rhett, ready to continue the discussion, only to find he was gone.

A/N: Okay, here's chapter 2. Rhett's joined us. I know this chapter sucks, but I've been having tons of homework and no time to write. Well, at least it's an update. By the by, the French monologue of Mr. Guillouet was saying " Mr. Cesar, sit up. This is not a zoo but a French class, the beautiful language you idiots actually thought you could learn. The French, however, are wonderful…smart, handsome, nice…" You get my drift (I'm half French, by the way). So, next update will probably be in a week. 


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm SOOOOOOOOOO sorry for not updating for months, but I really couldn't help it. There were a lot of things going on in my house, things involving super sick sisters, salt lakes, piano recitals, drunkenness, druggie cousins, Bogotá, gorillas (or rather guerrillas), and vineyards. You don't want to know. **

**But I'm here now, groveling for your forgiveness (and hopefully getting it). All problems have either been solved or are being solved, and I'm feeling happier than I have in months. So here goes the third chapter of "Nothing Gold Can Stay." Voila, madames et monsieurs! **

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Gone With The Wind, its plot, and any of its characters. I do, however, own my modern interpretation of it, and if anyone plagiarizes it…well, let's just say that person had best start walking with his back facing the wall.**

"Where's Suellen?" Scarlett asked Cathleen. Though it was not obvious, her voice was slightly slurred, the result of too much brandy and too little food. She was not drunk, per se, but if she drank a drop more of alcohol she would have been.

Cathleen, on the other hand, was. Extremely.

"I dunno," she murmured, and then started to laugh hysterically. Scarlett stared down at her in disgust, and with reason. Cat's breath stank of beer, there was vomit on her shirt (or what was supposed to be a shirt, but really looked like a piece of cloth which covered one fourth of her breasts), and her fly was unbuttoned, for a reason that Scarlett really did not want to know. It was her duty, as usual, to bring a drunken Cathleen and (most probably) a drunk Suellen as well. It was not a job she particularly relished, but she was the only who was ever sober at the end of parties and so she could not dump the job onto the lap of some love- (or rather lust-) struck senior with a driver's license. On the contrary, she was the one stuck bringing back as many guys as could fit in her car home. Brent, Stuart, Tony, Charles, Frank, and Cat were already installed pell-mell in the back and in the trunk of her Renault. Scarlett sighed and started walking towards the mansion.

There was still Suellen, who was probably vomiting behind some bushes somewhere, and, much as it tempted her, Scarlett could not leave her behind. Unlike with most sisters, it was not because her parents had told her to take care of the younger sibling. For some reason, she had always felt responsible for her sisters. She could not explain it to anyone, much less herself, but since she was a little girl she was always making sure that Suellen did not get lost in the supermarket, or that Careen put on her seatbelt properly. Neither girls ever noticed it, and Scarlett was grateful for that. She did not want to appear like a mother hen, and so she always blamed it on Mother, saying that she'd been told to make sure they were okay, and that was the way it would always be, as far as Scarlett was concerned.

Being the oldest sucks.

"Your sister, I believe," a smooth voice said, coming from the darkness. Scarlett shrieked and spun around, only to find herself facing the amused face of the one and only Rhett Butler.

"You!" she exclaimed angrily, her fear forgotten in the face of her antipathy towards the man standing in front of her. He raised an eyebrow, his face still retaining the arrogance that she'd noted earlier.

"My, what hostility for someone to whom you just spoke for one minute," he said, his silky voice not showing the least bit of offence at her treatment of him.

"One minute too much," she snapped, but his amusement only increased. She crossed her arms. "What do you want?" He glanced down at his shoulder, and for the first time she noticed that Suellen was lolling against him, one arm around his shoulder and the other one touching his chest intimately while she murmured something that had to do with "sexy," and "hot." Scarlett's face flushed as a burning shame enveloped her. For a second she was tempted to say she didn't know her, and that he should just leave her there (so that she could discreetly pick her up later), but then she remembered that they'd already met.

"Yep, that's her!" Scarlett said, as though the matter had ever been at doubt. She reached out as though to grab her, but Rhett's hand closed around her to stop her. For a second she stood still staring at it. It felt burning hot against her cold skin, and a bolt of energy seemed to go from his body into hers, in a manner she'd never experienced before and thought it was unlikely she ever would again. She looked up at him, and Time seemed to stand still for a second. _He has the blackest eyes I've ever seen_, she thought.

And then Suellen giggled and the moment was broken. Scarlett jerked her hand out of his, and ignored the fact that the eyebrow that had been normal a second ago had joined the raised one.

"What was that for?" she asked brusquely.

"I'm sure," Rhett said, his drawl as smooth as ever, "that I could never be considered a gentleman if I were to let a lovely young lady such as yourself alone to deal with her-" he paused for a second, glancing down at Suellen with a slightly curled lip, "ill sister," he finished. Scarlett gave him a look.

"I'm sure you could never be considered a gentleman, period," she replied tartly. Rhett smiled faintly.

"That's most probably true," he conceded. "However, it's never too late to change my ways," and with that said he jerked his arm and Suellen was suddenly in his arm, held by the crook of her knee and her neck. Scarlett gaped at his back as he started striding in the dark as if he knew exactly where her car was. He paused for a second and glanced at her, his look obviously saying, "Are you coming or not?" She hurried to catch up.

"By the way," he said suddenly, "do you know what happened to Frank? I've been looking for him for an hour."

"Frank Kennedy? He's in my truck," she answered, somewhat sullenly. What right did Butler have to tell her what to do?

Said man paused to glance at her in surprise.

"In your truck," he repeated, as though saying it again would explain what Frank Kennedy was doing in the trunk of Scarlett O'Hara's car. "Should I inform the police?" She gave him a dirty look.

"He's drunk," she explained, as though that would clear up the mystery. Any other person would still have been confused, but Rhett was not any other person.

"So you're driving him home?"

"No," she retorted sarcastically, "I'm taking advantage of his weakened state to kidnap him."

"Ah. So I _should _inform the police," Rhett drawled, acting as though he had not realized that she was being sarcastic. She rolled her eyes, but didn't bother to answer since they'd already reached her car.

"This is it," she announced, stopping. Rhett eyed it appreciatively.

"Well, aren't you Daddy's little girl," he said sardonically. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked coldly.

"Just that you have to be quite…_appreciated_…by your parents for them to buy you a car like this," he ran his hand down the sides. Scarlett shrugged.

"Around here you could be your Dad's most hated enemy and you'd still get a car like this," she replied indifferently.

"Still, you seem like a good daddy's pet," he murmured, and Scarlett scowled at him angrily.

She opened her trunk and was immediately assaulted by groans, moans, and other drunken sounds.

"Scarlett, baby," one of the Tarletons (she couldn't tell them apart in the dark) said. "S'up, baby? Come here." She ignored him and grabbed Frank.

"Here," she said, pushing him towards Rhett. Frank simply flopped on the ground. Rhett glanced down at him then held up Suellen.

"What should I do with her?" he asked.

"Just stuff her in there," she answered, gesturing to the inside of the trunk, where the twins were sprawled. Usually she put her in the passenger's seat, but she was feeling annoyed at her right now, for humiliating her in front of Butler. Rhett complied, and then stood up and glanced at her with a highly amused look.

"Bus driver, are you," he whispered. She glared at him and his mocking eyes.

"I hope you rot in hell," she snapped. He smirked and hauled up Kennedy.

"Since you're probably headed there, with pleasure," he replied, and looked her up and down with slow and appreciative eyes, then grinned at her. Though she was used to being checked out, it had never been done in such an obvious way, and so she ignored his backhanded compliment (if it was even that), and grabbed a tennis ball to hurl at him as hard as she could. She was slightly tipsy, however, and Rhett had no problem ducking in time. For a second he looked at her, with the laughter evident in his eyes, and then he frowned suddenly.

"Are you sure you should be driving?" he asked abruptly.

"Why ever not?" she snapped back irately. He opened his mouth as though to reply, then shook his head. _She's probably used to doing this_, he thought. And yet he still felt a twinge of concern. He shook it off, annoyed at himself. _Why do I even care?_ He asked himself, and then smiled at Scarlett.

"It's been a very interesting pleasure meeting you, Miss O'Hara," he said, bowing. On an impulse, he grabbed her hand and kissed it with a great deal less chastity than was probably ever allowed in the olden days. Scarlett gaped at him until she recovered her spirits enough to jerk her hand out of his, in a way that gave her a great sense of déjà vu, and asked in an embarrassingly shaky voice:

"What the hell are you doing?" He merely laughed, and carrying Frank as though he were a bag of potatoes, walked out into the dark.

_And good riddance_, Scarlett thought to herself, wiping her hand distastefully on her jeans. _May he never come back._

It's impossible, even for the luckiest girl on earth, to have her wishes answered every time.

SCE

The next day, Scarlett woke up at ten, and only that early because Mammy had opened the blinds abruptly and loudly. She groaned and pulled the cover over her head, only to have it yanked off just as unexpectedly.

"Time for you to get up," Mammy announced, as though it was an undisputed law that had existed since the time of the cavemen, that Scarlett O'Hara must wake up at ten on the dot, on November 23rd, in the year of our Lord 2006.

Scarlett disagreed.

"Lemme alone," she groaned.

"I don't think so," Mammy replied sternly. "Whose fault is it that you stayed up until three last night?"

"God's," Scarlett muttered, pressing her face in her pillow, which was also taken away from her, leaving her on a bare mattress with no possible protection against the sun.

"The culprit must pay the consequences," she said, ignoring what the younger girl had said.

"So what are you going to do?" Scarlett snapped. "Punish God?"

"Don't you be smart with me, young lady," was the only answer. "Unlike your mother, I know perfectly that what you were doing last night did not involve playing 'Duck, Duck, Goose!'" For the first time, Scarlett opened her eyes and gazed at the familiar black face. Mammy was not part of the O'Hara family, but she might as well have been. She had started as Mrs. O'Hara's nanny, and for some reason had never left the family since.

She was the one who always watched over Scarlett, made sure to kiss her booboos when she was a little girl, bought her her first bra, gave her "the talk," explained to her what puberty was, made sure she always did her homework, made sure she ate well, and, most importantly, kept her from getting into too much trouble. For some people, that would not appear like a hard job, but then some people did not know Scarlett.

Mammy's career as Scarlett's guardian angel had started when said girl was only two years old, and had decided it would be fun to jump out of the window. Mammy had arrived just in time to save her life. Then when Scarlett turned four and decided to join the circus and trained herself by climbing onto horses and hitting them with sticks until they started galloping. She fell off and would have been trampled to death had Mammy not been passing by, heard her screams, and rushed to her rescue. Of course, then came the running away stage at the age of six. All children go through this; however, unlike Scarlett, few make it far. She, on the other hand, got all the way to Atlanta by bus, and was found in a candy shop by Mammy, who was coming back from a visit to her family.

There were many more incidents like this, such as when Scarlett and her boyfriend Brent decided to elope at the tender age of eight, or when Scarlett sneaked into the liquor cabin to see whether or not she like drinking. All anyone needs to know was that Mammy always managed to save her skin, and despite her numerous exclamations of "This child will be the death of me!" and Scarlett's grumblings about "Mammy always sticking her nose in places it isn't wanted," the two loved each other dearly. They blackmailed, insulted, and threatened each other, of course, but that didn't change the deep bond of trust between them. If Scarlett ever had a problem which she didn't dare tell her mother about, she turned towards Mammy, and Mammy always helped her. Scarlett was Mammy's pride and joy, and as soon as she was one she had stated that "this girl's going to be real sharp," a statement which she gloatingly told everyone about when Scarlett started doing calculus in eighth grade.

But right now Scarlett wasn't feeling very inclined to like Mammy as she got out of bed and started dressing up reluctantly, her companion having left the room to give her some privacy. _Annoying old lady_, she thought bitterly, putting on a shirt that showed off her tiny waist. _Why can't I sleep any longer? It's the weekend, for God's sake!_ She shook her head sourly. One thing was certain: Scarlett O'Hara would not be in a good mood that day.

_La Fin de Chapitre Trois.  
_

**Before all oldest siblings go and agree with this, I would like to point out that being the youngest sucks even more. The oldest beats you up, tells on you, bullies you, controls the remote, is always more trusted by adults, and generally treats the youngest horribly. I know there because I'm there, and I'm doing it still. I HATE my sister, although she doesn't have so much control over me anymore. The bad memories remain.**

**Anyway, as I said before, I'm terribly sorry about how long it took me to update.**

**I also have a matter that I would like to address: should I include Scarlett's infatuation for Ashley in her? I'm torn. On the one hand, Ashley is essential to Gone With The Wind, and I'd like to keep my story as faithful to the book as possible. On the other hand, I hate that part of the story, and I'm not sure I could write about it without sneaking in some snide comments in there. Honestly.**

**Okay, here's a test. Imagine that you were a girl (if you are one don't bother doing this) and you have a choice between two men.**

**The first looks alright, is married to your best friend, doesn't understand, can't do anything but read, doesn't understand you, is your polar opposite, and spends his time reminiscing about the past even though he know you hate that.**

**The second is the sexiest guy on earth, hilarious, really smart, rich, loves you completely, is great in bed, does his best to please you (most of the time), takes care of you no matter what, understands you completely, and respects you.**

**Now, which one would you pick? Everyone thinks long and hard**

**Yeah. Me too.**

**Seriously though, tell me in your reviews (by which I mean please god I'm begging you okay review, and also check out the book, "The Truth About Forever." It's good, not great, but good. winks at ****Kreepi Spicer**).

**Did You Know:** The dollar symbol ($) is a U combined with an S (U.S.)

**And now a riddle: **Why did the dinosaur cross the road?

**If you already know the answer, then don't say it. The rest of you can leave it in your reviews (see above). By the by, if someone gets the answer right and then everyone else follows with the same correct one, I think I'll be able to guess why.**

**And sorry again for the long pause! I feel terrible about it.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I am the ghost of Margaret Mitchell and I do own this story, so HA!**

**Just kidding. I don't own Gone With The Wind or any of its characters.**

**Also, I don't own the title "Nothing Gold Can Stay." That belongs to Robert Frost, and the poem goes like this: **Nature's early green is gold/Her hardest hue to hold/ Her early leaf's a flower/ But only so an hour/Then leaf subsides to leaf/So Eden sank to grief/So dawn goes down to day/Nothing gold can stay. **Just so you know.**

**Anyway, chapter 4.**

Gerald O'Hara came home at eleven twenty-one am on the dot.

Scarlett knew this because she'd been watching the clock at the very moment the door slammed, wishing that lunch would be over. Scarlett liked food as much as anyone, but that was not enough to change the fact that Suellen was currently giving everyone a mind numbingly boring account of what exactly Frank Kennedy had complimented her about during the party to Careen, who looked ridiculously fascinated. Scarlett glanced at Mrs. O'Hara, wondering what she thought about it, but her mother was busy frowning to herself and muttering figures under her breath, which meant she'd been going over the accounts before eating. Scarlett sighed again, wishing that Mammy was here to distract her, but she'd gone to the Cave to serve clients. Scarlett sighed and glanced at the clock.

At that moment the door slammed, and a voice bellowed loudly (and quite unnecessarily), "I'm home!"

"That must be Pa!" Suellen said loudly. Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"No, Really? I thought it was some burglar coming in discreetly to steal your earrings," Scarlett retorted sarcastically. At that moment the heavy tramp of boots reached them, and all of the estrogen in the O'Hara family turned to look at him.

Gerald O'Hara was, by no means, a handsome man. His curly hair was already graying, though he had barely reached fifty. His shoulders were too broad for his body, he had a barrel chest, and his legs were short.

Yet people rarely noticed that when they looked at him. There was something about his smile, too broad for his tanned and lined face, his habit of gesticulating when he spoke excitedly, his blaring voice which was better made for the outdoors, and, most of all, the energy, vitality, and _life_ that seemed to leap out from him, making his deep blue eyes a pleasure to the most antisocial man.

He was an Irishman, and a poor one at that. His childhood had been spent in deprivation, and as soon as he turned seventeen he moved to the Unites States of America, the land of justice and opportunity, or so he hoped.

And he'd done well. He started as a poor worker on the vineyard of Tara, the largest privately owned estate in the whole state of Georgia. His boss, an unmarried old man by the name of Earl Lapis, had liked him and his hard-working ways, frequently telling him that it was a "shame he wasn't Jewish," which Gerald did not completely understand but knew to be a compliment. Slowly he'd risen in station until he was second only to Mr. Lapis.

Then one day the man died, and twenty-nine years old Gerald was crushed. He'd grown to think of Tara as his one and only home, and had pictured himself living happily ever after working there. The reality was even better than his dream.

Earl left him the whole estate of Tara to him in his will, on the condition that he let Pork and Dilcey, a worker and his wife who'd lived there for years, continue to work for him. Gerald agreed happily, being fond of the two himself, and soon established himself as a hardheaded business and made his fortune.

On a trip to Charleston, he met Ellen Robillard, daughter of Pierre Robillard. The Robillards were one of the oldest and proudest families in South Carolina, and Pierre, to say the least, did not want her daughter to marry a _nauveau-riche_ immigrant Irishman.

Pierre was a very picky man when it came to a husband for his favorite daughter. He had refused to allow her to marry a distant cousin of hers, with whom she had fallen passionately in love. In fact, when he had heard of it he had immediately sent the boy away, and he quickly died in a bar fight.

Mammy would never forget the look on Ellen's face when she heard of the news. There had been something in her eyes…or rather; there had _not_ been something in her eyes. It seemed that a light in them was extinguished; much like a flame could be extinguished. All the life, the passion, the will that made Ellen _Ellen_ was gone, replaced by something flat and blank and empty. From that moment, she was nothing but the gentle shell of a once living girl.

So when Gerald O'Hara had arrived, full of life and vigor, she had known that she would marry him. Not for love, no; she was now incapable of such a feeling, but for safety. She would be a Mrs., with children, an estate, far away from home, where she wouldn't have to deal with the half sympathizing, half "thank God it didn't happen to me," looks, and that was all she wanted.

Pierre Robillard's objections had been easy to take care of. All she had to do to get his permission was to threaten to elope with the local drunk, Richard, who had already proposed to her several times. Pierre Robillard was a proud man, but he was also a smart one. He knew that Ellen, with her desperate face and resolute eyes, would do exactly as she said. So it was consented to (despite Mammy's objections), the preparations were made, the ceremony rolled around, and Gerald O'Hara became a true businessman, with money, a wife ten years younger than him, and soon children.

And they lived happily ever after…

If only.

SCE

**I know that this chapter is neither interesting nor well written, as well as very short, but it's going to be important for later on and gives a lot of background info. So don't get mad, please.**

**I'll update soon with The Adventures Of Scarlett O'Hara, **

**For those of you who haven't read the book (which you should do, because it about, oh, five million times better than the movie), this is actually in it. Mrs. O'Hara fell in love with her cousin, Phillip Something, her dad found out, sent him away, and he promptly died in a brawl. Then Ellen threatened to join a convent if her father didn't allow him to marry Gerald, and that's it. It also says in the book that Ellen was the "gentle shell" of who she'd once been, and felt nothing at all. So I think that when she was a girl she was quite a bit like Scarlett. **

**Did You Know:** An ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain.

**And special hugs to all that reviewed. Please God I'm begging you, r&r.**


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